


Upon the Greeny Grass

by Persiflager



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Infidelity, Outdoor Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-12 08:44:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1184221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflager/pseuds/Persiflager
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for <a href="http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/21766.html?thread=130151430#t130151430"> this prompt</a> on the kinkmeme - Molly in the garden at John & Mary's wedding, pressed against the wall with her dress hiked up as Lestrade fucks her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Upon the Greeny Grass

Molly’s sitting alone on one of the benches in the garden when Lestrade finds her. Her feet hurt and her face feels heavy.

“Oh, hello,” he says, unlit cigarette in one hand. “Thought you’d gone home.” Then, as he comes closer: “Are you alright?”

She nods and blows her nose. 

“Ah.” He stands there for a moment, thinking. “Mind if I join you?”

She shakes her head. 

He sits down. “Mind if I smoke?”

She shakes her head again.

Lestrade retrieves a lighter from his pocket, holds the flame to the tip of his cigarette, sucks, exhales, sighs, and tucks the lighter away. Molly find it strangely comforting. She’s never been a smoker herself but most of her friends are and she envies them the ritual of it.

“So,” he says eventually. “Do I need to give your young man a smack?”

He’s not looking at her. Molly can barely make his face out, in the indigo gloom of the summer night, save for the red glow of his cigarette. That makes it easier to talk.

“He’s gone home,” she says in a steady voice. “He’s not - oh, he was being so _stupid_!”

Lestrade takes another drag of his cigarette. The acrid tickle of the smoke is familiar and calming. “In my experience,” he says slowly, comfortably, “other people’s weddings are the second most popular place for a row.”

“What’s the first?”

“Driving a hire car on the first night of a holiday.”

She laughs in spite of herself. “Tom’s crap at navigating,” she confides. “It’s always ‘not that left!’ or ‘ooh, we just passed it!’.”

“I’m crap at taking directions. Used to drive my ex mad. She’d tell me which turning to take but if she didn’t sound sure then I’d just take a guess.” Lestrade’s teeth gleam as he grins. “Course, drove her even madder when I turned out to be right.”

Molly laughs properly at that and the knot inside her chest loosens.

“Come on, let’s go for a walk,” says Lestrade, getting up. “I need to stretch my legs.”

They wander companionably through the gardens as Lestrade smokes his cigarette and tells Molly funny stories from when he was a kid. She ventures a couple back and he actually laughs at them, which is unusual - most people just look awkward and then make an excuse to leave when she tells the one about the dead squirrel.

He goes quiet at one point.

“Christ,” he says, almost to himself. “I forget how young you are.”

“You’re not that much older than me,” says Molly, frowning. They’ve come to a halt just beside the rose garden and the air is thick with scent.

Lestrade turns to look at her. “I am a bit,” he says with a self-deprecating smile.

And Molly is suddenly, unreasonably annoyed at him. He’s fit and handsome and lovely and he has _no right_ to talk about himself like that.

So she goes up on her toes and kisses him quickly.

Lestrade stares at her for a moment, just long enough for her to feel embarrassed and stupid, then bends down and kisses her properly.

Oh god. Oh god oh god, he’s so _good_. He wraps his arms around her and kisses her thoroughly, expertly, pushing his tongue inside her mouth as if he was fucking her. She wishes he was. Arousal surges so quickly inside her, it’s shameful. 

Molly presses herself wantonly up against him and is pleased to find that he’s as hard as she is wet. She wants him desperately.

Lestrade grunts and grabs her arse, squeezing it tight. “How drunk are you?” he asks in a low voice, lips pressed tight against her ear.

“Not very.” She kisses the stubbled line of his jaw.

“Ok then.” He looks over her shoulder then takes her hips and walks her backwards across the grass until she’s pressed up against a brick wall. It’s rough on the bare skin of her shoulders. She drops her handbag on the ground.

Lestrade ducks his head to kiss her neck. She arches, encouraging him. His big warm hands slide up her legs, nudging her dress up as they go until it’s round her waist.

“Yes yes yes,” she chants, desire blooming hot and sharp under her skin. “ _Yes_.”

Lestrade eases one finger under the edge of her knickers. “You’re soaking,” he says, awed, stroking along the outside.

Molly bucks her hips impatiently. “More,” she says, adding ‘Please’ as an afterthought.

Lestrade grins against her mouth and slides two fingers straight inside. She moans, shameless, moving against him as he fucks her with single-minded determination, and comes gasping within minutes.

Lestrade removes his hand and kisses her softly. “Um-”

“Fuck me,” she says, pushing her knickers down, leaning on him as she stands on first one leg then the other to kick them off. “Oh god, please fuck me, I want you-”

“Yeah, yeah, alright.” He fumbles his belt and trousers open and retrieves a condom from his back pocket before pushing his trousers and underwear halfway down round his thighs. His cock looks large, thick and dark in the shadows.

Lestade rips open the condom packet.

“Let me,” says Molly because she wants to touch him, wants to feel as much of him as possible.

He nods, gives it to her and stands still as she carefully rolls it over him. His cock is hot and heavy in her hand.

Lestrade crowds between her legs and bends his knees, guiding his cock into place. Molly is suddenly, ridiculously glad that she’s wearing high heels. Then he thrusts inside and seals his mouth to hers and all other thoughts are gone.

He’s big and perfect and she whimpers as he fills her, going up on her toes in her eagerness.

Lestrade cups the bare cheeks of her arse and tugs her upwards. “Can’t pick you up,” he pants, thrusting deep. “Sorry.”

Molly shakes her head. “Don’t be,” she says, waves of pleasure making her dizzy. “Oh _god_.” And then she’s coming, again, flushing hot as her orgasm unfurls through her body.

“Don’t stop,” she gasps as it keeps going. “Oh, fuck, don’t stop!”

It feels never-ending. Sweet and sharp and all-encompassing, her orgasm keeps rolling through her as Lestrade fucks with a gratifying enthusiasm until finally it starts to fade.

“Oh,” she sighs softly.

“Are you done?” he says without breaking rhythm.

“Yes, she says, blushing, still enjoying the aftershocks. “Sorry.”

He presses a sloppy kiss to her lips. “Ssh, that was brilliant. Couldn’t have held on much longer.” He thrusts in roughly and comes with a low, heartfelt groan.

They stay like that, warm and sticky, as the distant sound of disco music nudges back into Molly’s awareness. In a moment she’s going to have to think about this. About the fact that she’s just cheated on Tom. Oh god. At least Sherlock isn’t here to tell everyone, although he’ll probably figure it out as soon as he sees her and then-

Lestrade kisses her softly.

“You alright?”

“Yes. Thanks.”

He pulls out and they both set themselves to rights in silence. When they’re done he pauses and looks at her.

“Look, it’s none of my business, but do you want some advice?”

Molly hasn’t the faintest idea what she wants. “Ok.”

“Don’t tell him. If you work things out then he won’t want to know, and if you don’t then it’s just cruel.”

She nods. Takes a deep breath and lets it out. “I’ll see you around, then.”

“Suppose so.” He runs a hand through his hair, smiles briefly and walks away.

Molly watches until he’s out of sight before calling a taxi to take her home.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from 'Now is the Month of Maying', the famous bawdy madrigal about springtime shagging. As the wedding took place in May I thought that was appropriate :)


End file.
